


How it Hangs in the Air

by Honeymull



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Ak Bars Kazan, M/M, Tampa Bay Lightning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-15
Updated: 2012-02-15
Packaged: 2017-10-31 05:27:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/340434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Honeymull/pseuds/Honeymull
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brad and Vinny go sledding in Kazan on a day off.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How it Hangs in the Air

**Author's Note:**

> Quick, cleaned-up emailfic of unapologetic fluff because I feel like ass and I wanted to. Inspired by [this Brad/Vinny primer](http://cathybites.livejournal.com/946464.html#cutid1) that everyone in hockey fandom remaining unaware of these two really needs to look at.
> 
> Obviously takes place during the lockout, when both were playing in the RSL.

They don't lie to the rest of the Ak Bars team when they say they're taking their day off to wander around and do some shopping. They do go shopping, to one shop, that Vinny came up with online about a week and a half ago.

The leave that shop with two oversized toboggans, bulky and awkward to carry. It only takes about twenty minutes to find their way to the hill Brad found, tucked away in the big city like a secret. It's huge and steep, ringed by trees on three sides, and there's nobody in sight for what feels like miles.

Vinny plunks his sled down at the top, breathing a little hard from the climb up. "Well?"

Brad drops his sled, too, toes it into position. "Well, what? You're the one that wanted to go sledding." He huffs a little, his breath a cloud. "Like you didn't, enough, growing up Canadian."

Vinny rolls his eyes, but he's smiling just a little, pink-cheeked from the cold. "It's Russia, man. It's different, here."

"Yeah." They both stand for a bit at the brink of the hill. It's quiet, relaxing. Then Brad adds, "Pretty sure I can still beat you to the bottom, Russia or not."

Vinny's eyes narrow, the moment stretches out for a long second - and then Brad darts for his own sled an instant before Vinny lunges for his. Brad pushes off an instant before him, and then the ice is catching him, the wind is howling, and he can barely hear Vinny yell after him about cheating, he's laughing too hard.

The sled is cheap, a flimsy kind of material, and after whizzing breathtakingly fast most of the way, it catches on a uneven patch of ground toward the bottom. It flips, and Brad goes sprawling into a thankfully-soft drift a good six feet away. He stays there, chest heaving with remaining laughter and exertion both.

Vinny whooshes to a neat stop at the foot of the hill a few seconds later. Brad doesn't move. He waits for Vinny to come to him.

"Cheater." Vinny kick him, not especially lightly, with his boot, and Brad throws an arm over his eyes so he doesn't start giggling again.

He gets himself under control and says, slightly muffled since he doesn't move his arm, "Too slow."

There's a light thud, and the light seems to be blocked out a little, and then Brad can feel Vinny next to him. He takes his arm away from his eyes, and sure enough, Vinny's kneeling in the drift right next to him. Brad blinks up at him, amused and cold and weirdly content.

"Say you cheated." Vinny is insistent, even as he shifts to get a knee over Brad's hips, straddling him in jeans and that thick, stupid leather jacket of his.

Brad shakes his head, can't help grinning up at him, and stays silent.

Vinny tsks, and sighs as he takes both Brad's wrists, holds them in one hand above Brad's stomach. "I'd really just say it, Richie."

"Oh, friendly advice, eh?" Brad raises his eyebrows, already breathing a little quicker.

"Something like that."

Brad opens his mouth to say something bitchy in response, but Vinny's already leaning down to bite at his bottom lip, give it a demanding little tug. Brad lodges a half-hearted complaint at being cut off with a disgruntled sound, but nips right back at Vinny.

Vinny groans when Brad scrapes his teeth over Vinny's jaw, further down his throat. Vinny's skin is chilly from the wind, from a collar not pulled quite high enough, and Brad sets about warming it up.

It's ridiculous, lying in the snow feeling the snow slowly seeping through his jeans, making out with Vinny like they're back at Notre Dame with time in the day to spare. But Vinny's heavy and perfect on top of him, forgetting now and then to keep his weight from crushing Brad as he sinks down to grind his hips against Brad's. The sheer cold should keep things in check, Brad has time to think, before Vinny tightens his grip on Brad's wrists, still pinned in front of him, so hard the small bones in them grind together painfully.

"Jesus, Vinny." Brad tears himself away for a second to gasp. The air goes into his lungs like ice, and he gulps in the next few breaths. He drops his head back into the snow, gets a flurry of it rising up around him. Vinny regards him, all flushed cheeks under his freckles, his eyes bright with the chill, and raises his eyebrows.

He leans down, the drag of his cock against Brad's unbearable, even in this weather. "Ready to tell me you're a cheater?" he breathes at Brad's ear.

Brad can _hear_ the shit-eating grin in his voice. He turns his head to catch Vinny's mouth, sucks Vinny's bottom lip in, then his tongue, before nipping his tongue sharply and letting go. "I beat you fair and square." He noses in against Vinny's jaw, then up to where sweat makes the delicate hair at his temple curl. "Just like always."

That gets a growl from Vinny and his wrists tugged out from between them and pinned above his head. It's fucking cold, but Vinny's covering him nearly from head to toe, his hand circling Brad's wrists warmly. Brad's more focused on the way Vinny's ducking down to bite into the thin skin under Brad's jaw, the way he's moving on top of Brad, than he is on the temperature.

He doesn't have a lot of room to move, himself, but tries to work his hips up against Vinny. Their rhythm is sloppy at best, and Brad's calves are starting to ache with the cold. Still, Vinny's all around him, breathing hotly against Brad's neck and making low, increasingly urgent sounds he doesn't even try to muffle. Brad can't help tilting his head back, giving Vinny the bare span of his throat as Vinny shoves down against him, growls something incomprehensible into Brad's skin.

Brad wants to fist his hands in Vinny's hair, knows how desperate he is as he tosses his head when he comes. His fingers flex with the potential motion, wanting to feel that now. Vinny rumbles something to the negative and tightens his grip, pushing Brad's wrists into the ground pointedly. It's not what Brad wants, but it makes him pant for breath even more harshly, swearing at Vinny voicelessly as he looks for just that little bit more friction-

Vinny plants his free hand on Brad's chest all at once, holding him down and balancing with that one while keeping Brad's arms pinned with the other. His eyes are slits as he works himself against Brad, selfish and stupid and juvenile, using Brad to get himself off while they're both still fully clothed. It makes Brad blush, thinking of those first hurried times year and years ago. When Vinny overheard him crying in his Notre Dame bunk, overcome with homesickness and the too-big world he'd stepped into. When Vinny would shove at his shoulder without saying a word, clamber into Brad's bed with him in a tangle of awkward limbs and worried eyes in the dark. Vinny's not so awkward anymore, packed on muscle and grown into his body so that the boy he used to be was left in the dirt a long time ago, but Brad remembers how he'd do this, too. Shush at Brad, forever bossy, reach into Brad's pajama pants and jerk him off inexpertly, then put Brad up against the wall of his bunk and rub up against him until Vinny felt better, too.

It took a lot less time back then, but it doesn't take too long now, either. Vinny whines when he comes, mouth open and his head ducked down against the wind. He rides out the last few thrusts against Brad's belly, before shifting off of him.

"I shouldn't let you come 'til you say you cheated," he says, voice scratchy and fucked-up.

Brad screws his eyes shut, because he's so hard he could probably come without Vinny if Vinny would just let his damn hands down for a sec. Like hell is he going to admit anything, though, and Vinny knows it.

Vinny's hand slides down over Brad's cock in his jeans a moment later, though. Brad gasps, hips working as Vinny rubs over the head. "Only because you deserve to walk home gross in your jeans, too, Richie." He palms roughly over the length of it again and again, and Brad can't- he comes with a groan, twitching up into Vinny uselessly.

Vinny runs his fingers lightly over the spreading damp spot, making Brad hitch away from him and glare. Vinny just grins down at him, stupid freckles wrinkling over his nose, and lets his hands go, helps him up.

They both groan a little in disgust at the feel of their wet jeans in the cold. Brad makes a face. "Whose fucking idea was that?" 

"Hey, I just wanted to go sledding. Don't give me that look."

Brad looks up at the steep slope they have to climb, then sidelong at Vinny.

"...Race you to the top."


End file.
